I am in the midst of a lethargic rebellion today. It’s one of those days where this slug has decided to camp out behind my eyes and moving seems impossible. I tried to fight off the rebellion by ingesting copious amounts of caffeine, lifting weights, and shopping for produce (the intent is to not let the asparagus and nectarines rot this time).
However, all I really want to do is binge watch Shameless on Netflix. After watching one episode that featured hipsters, I did get up to put a beanie on my head to try to look like a hipster, but quickly removed it because I think my head is shaped more like a melon than an egg and I think maybe hipsters have smaller, egg-shaped heads and I am not willing to get a head-reconfiguration operation.
My husband is fully aware of what is happening. After twenty years with me, he is well-versed in the regular occurrence of my rebellion. The first sign is that I have refused to shower after my workout. Somewhat because I don’t feel like moving and somewhat because it brings me joy refusing to give in to his obsessive compulsive need to do multiple loads of laundry throughout the day.
The second sign occurs when giving him a haircut and trimming his goatee today. I may or may not have yanked his head back because there was this one piece of hair that was a centimeter longer than the other ones but the light was messing with me and well, anyways, I tried to locate it via yanking his head back and forth. Then, when I moved on to his goatee. I kind of nicked him just a bit. Not on purpose. And to apologize I told him it was an accident and if I had meant to cut him I would have cut him a lot worse.
At this moment, my husband has taken refuge by sitting in the backyard. Every now and then I walk up to the sliding glass door and press my face up to the glass until he notices me. He gives me a confused look and blows kisses at me. In defiance, I give my best zerbert and slowly back away. He smiles and shakes his head.
Lethargic rebellion continues. I want to nap all day, but then I am angry that I want to nap all day, so I don’t nap, and then I attempt to torment everybody in the house. No one seems phased though. I power a deadly front-kick inches from my husband’s head and he just laughs. The Augster put his giant head over my face and breathes his stank breath on me even when I told him to get away from me. My oldest daughter reprimanded me for glaring at her. I just gave my 7-year old daughter a strand of my hair thinking I might get a negative reaction. Instead, she added it to her own hair and exclaimed, “Now Mommy’s hair is part of my hair”.
So I give in. No wise words are surfacing today. As Burl Ives sang in Rudolph’s Christmas Special, “there’s always tomorrow”. Out of all of this though, what I love is that I could stand up right now and exclaim something completely off the wall, and everyone in this house would smile and shake their heads at me. No one would miss a beat. No judgment. Only acceptance, unconditional love, and a sense of humor.